


Zone Four

by casesandcapitals



Series: DustRunner!Verse [4]
Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-04
Updated: 2013-04-04
Packaged: 2017-12-07 11:51:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/748211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casesandcapitals/pseuds/casesandcapitals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jet and Kobra aren't back from their run yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Zone Four

Ghoul wipes his brow and takes a step back.  
"Well, fuck."  
They're standing in a back room at the Doc's, staring down at about a hundred open boxes, all filled with info. Ghoul reaches into one and pulls out a square piece of plastic.  
"What the fuck's this?"  
"It's called a floppy disk," comes Show Pony's voice from behind him.  
"It ain't floppy and it ain't a disk," Ghoul says, waving the plastic around.  
"And you ain't fun and you ain't a ghoul, so stop touchin'," Pony says, mocking Ghoul's drawl and snatching the disk from his dirty hands.  
"Shut up," Ghoul mutters.  
"You shut up," Pony snaps back.  
"Both of you shut up, and stop acting like kids," the Doc barks from his chair in the corner. "I swear, Grace is more mature than the two of you put together."  
Ghoul bites his tongue and leans back against the wall, ignoring the stupid smirk Pony flashes him.  
"So, what is it all, do you think?" asks Party, not paying attention to the bickering. He's squatting on the floor, fingers resting in the air above one open box, like he's afraid to touch.  
"No way to tell unless we try one, I figure," Doc says, his electric chair whirring as it moves forward. "Gimme one of the cds and we'll see if Jet Star's repairs on this player were any good."  
Party carefully selects a round disk and hands it to the Doctor. The older man presses a button on a silver machine made of spare parts that's hooked up to a screen. A tray slides out and the Doc inserts the disk. He punches a few more buttons and smacks the side of the machine once before music- fast, beautiful, aggressive _music_ \- pours out of a speaker.  
The four men freeze and stay completely still, listening to the entire two minute song in awe. When the song ends, the Doc presses another button and stares at the small screen.  
"There's a dozen of 'em on here," he mutters. "It's an old music cd from before the fall." He spins his chair around to stare at the hundreds and hundreds of disks and cds before him.  
"It's all music?" Poison asks softly, eyes wide, searching over the boxes as if he could hear it all at once just by looking.  
"Maybe not all, but I'd guess... most."  
Poison looks up and meets Ghoul's eyes across the room. He starts laughing, quickly joined by Ghoul, then Pony, then the Doc. It's a long time before they stop.

"So how come Kobra and Jet aren't here baskin' in all this music with us?" Ghoul asks.  
"They went on some supply run or something," Pony answers as he stacks disks within reach of the Doc. The Doc's got half-broken headphones on, searching through disk after disk, a smile on his old leathery face.  
" _Some supply run or somethin'_?" repeats Ghoul. "Could ya be a bit more specific?"  
"Well, who can even tell with those two?" Pony snaps. "They're probably off trading water for a stupid piece of metal again."  
"We needed that piece for the Am," Ghoul tells him.  
"And we need water to live," Pony answers in a sarcastic tone.  
"And we need the Am to live," Ghoul fires back.  
"When will they be back, do you think?" Poison asks before Pony can snap back at Ghoul.  
"Should be back before sundown."

It's the middle of the night. Pony's sleeping in the front room. The Doc passed out in his chair hours ago. Poison and Ghoul are sitting up, tense, listening to the silence outside the small shack.  
"They should be back by now," Poison mutters.  
Ghoul taps his fingers along the barrel of his bright green gun. "They mighta gone farther than we thought," he suggests.  
"Kobra hates the desert at night, you know that," Party answers, dropping his voice to a hoarse whisper. Even way out here, surrounded by friends, they're afraid of people using their fears against them.  
"Yeah, I know," Ghoul sighs. "He wouldn't have gone if it was that far."  
Poison purses his lips and Ghoul stares.  
"Get some sleep," Poison orders softly. "We'll go look for them at dawn."

The desert stretches before them, tinted pink and blue in the light of early morning.  
Ghoul yawns, staring out the open window. He managed to get just over two hours of sleep before Party shook him awake. The red haired man hadn't slept at all.  
They're flying across the dry, caked desert. Party always gets a lead foot when he's worried.  
It takes them almost no time to find the two abandoned bikes.  
They park fifty feet away and approach cautiously, guns drawn. The bikes are trashed, but there's no bodies and no blood.  
Ghoul finds the note, written in marker on a sheet of white plastic.  
 _Dear Party Poison, you'll find your Killjoys here. -Korse_  
A set of coordinates follows.  
Party stares at the note for a while, not moving an inch. If Ghoul didn't see him blink a few times, he would've thought the man had turned to stone.  
"It's a trap for us," Party finally mutters.  
"Obviously," Ghoul answers.  
"We're going anyway."  
"Obviously."


End file.
